Communication

So, my mom just finally got an up-to-date, modern-like com-pew-tor system. She has taken to this newfangled thing rather slowly, largely because she spends all day at work on one and thus doesn't see the need to play on it.

Now, my mother has this thing about coming downstairs: she doesn't do it. I'm fine with this, you can stand at the top of the stairs, raise your voice a bit and it'll go right in to my room. Mom thinks this is too much work. She usually rings my mobile phone from her (stationary) one (this is the woman who hates cell phones with a passion) if she needs me to do something. Tonight she figured out that she can effectively have even less contact with me, thanks to her new computer: I got an email telling me to change the laundry over.

Our email exchange:

Me: I'M RIGHT DOWNSTAIRS!!!!!
Mom: I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. DON'T YELL AT ME.
*I hear my "you've got mail" chirp just as I hear the sound of her computer powering down from upstairs, and I go for the kill.*
Me: I'M BLOGGING THIS!!!!!

She hates when I do that.